The Enemy of Eternity
by DoctorHuw
Summary: A Season 6B story featuring the 2nd Doctor, Jamie and Victoria. Roped into another C.I.A. mission, the Doctor and his friends are sent to Cape Canaveral in 1969 to investigate anachronistic circumstances, but old enemies are waiting...
1. Briefing

_**DOCTOR WHO - The Enemy of Eternity**_

_Written by Huw Davies_

**Mission Report: Part 1**

CELESTIAL INTERVENTION AGENCY

MISSION REPORT – REF. ΘΣ/09

This report concerns a case undertaken by the agent known as 'The Doctor', whom the C.I.A. have assigned the codename Theta Sigma. Said agent had been enrolled under orders from the High Council, after a trial had found him guilty of interference. Part of his sentence entailed a set period of work for the C.I.A. before an enforced exile to the planet Sol 3, in Mutter's Sprial. The mission account that follows was the ninth that Agent ΘΣ undertook for the Agency, and was performed on the planet Sol 3 in the galaxy Mutter's Sprial.

Before Agent ΘΣ was sent on the mission, it was decided by the Agency Collegiate that he would require assistance on the mission. Said agent is known to work especially well with inhabitants of the planet Sol 3, known as "humans"; in fact he travelled with many on his various wanderings through the Universe before his capture. So before he was briefed on the mission, Agent ΘΣ was asked to select two past companions to assist him.

**Chapter 1**

**Briefing**

The Doctor plodded wearily into the waiting hall of the C.I.A. operations complex and threw himself into a chair, huffing and puffing like a bored child. His thick, black, mop of hair covered his eyes, and his shirt had become untucked and his tie skewiff, but he was not at all bothered to correct them. This would be his ninth mission for the Agency, and he was becoming thoroughly bored with the field work.

At his trial he had been offered the chance to start work for the Agency immediately, or begin his enforced exile to the planet Earth. He had chosen the former with eagerness – it would mean continued, if monitored, travel, rather than a restraint to one time and place. Now he was wondering whether he had picked the correct option.

He stared around the small room he was sitting in. It was bare, dull and empty, save for himself and an automatic secretary device mounted on the wall next to the door opposite him. He had wondered on more than one occasion whether this Agency had been set up solely to send him on dull missions with dunderhead Time Lord companions merely as a punishment for him – indeed, before his flight from Gallifrey all those years ago he had not once heard of any "Celestial Intervention Agency". Anyway, if it was made up as a punishment, a deterrent, it was certainly working: this had been more boring than even Borusa's most tiresome lectures at the Academy, when he had blabbed on about Chancellery Guard processes, Gallifreyan security measures and voice-print locks: totally off topic, of course.

His mental wonderings ceased with a loud buzz from the automatic secretary device. On his Earth travels these automated voices were always young- and attractive-sounding women, however on Gallifrey the Time Lords seemed to be content with the boring old duffer.

"Agent Theta Sigma – please enter."

Dull, short and boring, the Doctor thought – just as this next mission will be no doubt.

The Doctor stepped through the doorway which had opened in front of him, and sat down in front of that creased, wrinkled face he had grown to hate so much: Director Kassius, head of the C.I.A.. Over the last few months the Doctor had sat in this office to be briefed, debriefed, chastised and on occasion meekly congratulated for his various missions. This man had become personally responsible for the Doctor's security, wellbeing, and discipline, and knowing him was one of the experiences the Time Lord would prefer to one day forget.

"So, Theta Sigma," the Director started,

"You know perfectly well it is pronounced "Doctor", Mr. Kassius," the Doctor retorted.

"And you know perfectly well to address me by my proper title!"

The Doctor did not bother apologising – despite his large frame and booming voice, Director Kassius was a weak-willed man who was hardly forceful.

"Anyway," he continued, "it is time for me to brief you on your ninth mission."

"Whoopee…" the Doctor muttered in sarcasm, "what _delights _are you serving me up _this _time?"

Ignoring the backchat, the Director continued; "You know – _Doctor_ – I think you're going to like this one."

"What makes you think that? You said that for mission number 5 and what was it? A harmless political issue on Androzani Major! You could have sent one of the Shobogans to deal with it and they would have produced near-identical results!"

"Now, come, Doctor, we all know the skill that that Conglomerate negotiation required!"

The Doctor leaned into the Director, their noses almost touching over the hard metal table.

"Don't bother with flattery!" His tone of voice was terse and his diction was heavily enunciated.

"Forgive me, Doctor, but still, I think this mission will be of considerable interest to you." The Doctor continued to feign interest and was now letting his eyes wander around the bare-walled office. "For a start," the Director added, "the planet Sol 3 is involved…"

The Doctor shook his head quickly and stared at the Director.

"Earth? Hmmm… tell me more." The disinterested frown on his face was rapidly becoming a far more interested grin.

"C.I.A. agents have been monitoring the planet during the Earth year of 1969, and have detected major temporal anomalies. They have also been observing anachronistic behaviour occurring on the land mass of Manerica, I believe it is."

The Doctor snorted loudly. "America, you fool! Don't you anything of Earth geography?"

"Frankly it's the last thing on my mind, Doctor. Anyway, we would like you, with your expert knowledge of the planet," (the Doctor rolled his eyes at the new instance of flattery) "to investigate. However, we have noticed recently your… delay in completing some missions."

"Well what do you expect? If you plonk me in a time-space location of which I know incredibly little about, with either no-one to assist me or some bookworm undergraduate from the Academy, then I think you should be glad that I even return from these missions!" The Doctor sighed heavily after his loud rant. The Director was passive as always in his response.

"That is what I was coming to, Doctor. We have decided to allow you the choice of one of your past companions to accompany you on this journey."

At this the Doctor's face cracked into a wide grin. He even briefly jumped from his chair excitedly, before quickly sitting back down again.

"Really? Oh my word, how kind…" The Doctor started gazing into space, trying to bring the faces of the humans whom he had shared such wonderful adventures with. For a brief moment he was even able to visualise his own granddaughter, Susan, with whom he had first left Gallifrey with, all those years ago. This Agency business was part of the punishment for that very escape.

As the Doctor daydreamed, the Director continued. "There are a few of your… associates whom we cannot allow you to travel with. The two youngsters, Ben Jackson and Polly Wright, for a start…"

Ah, Ben and Polly, the Doctor thought – the two lovebirds. Always mildly flirting with each other, though both fiercely protective of the other, and hardy souls to boot. "Hm, what about them?" the Doctor answered.

"Due to the timescale of this mission – Sol 3 year 1969 – we thought it unwise to remove them from a time briefly before that, only to have them reappear a year later. The Sol 3 authorities may well have something to say about that."

"Yes…" the Doctor said, "that would make sense."

"The same would go for Mr. Ian Chesterton, Miss Barbara Wright - oh, and Miss Victoria Waterfield. Also your granddaughter, Madame Susan." The Director paused briefly, much to the Doctor's irritation.

"Well?"

"Her position in Sol 3 history in the year 2157 is so pivotal that it would be dangerous for the C.I.A. to attempt to remove her from that time period."

"Oh, OK, then." The Doctor was slightly disappointed, but judged that it would probably be better for Susan if she were to stay with her beloved David, rather than face her grandfather again. Besides, he'd regenerated since she'd last seen him – not that the explanations would be difficult, but she would have to get to know a whole new man. It would be just too hard for her.

"Well I must say," the Doctor added, "it doesn't leave me much room for manoeuvre! I'm guessing you're going to tell me that Jamie and Zoe are off-limits also, what with you Time Lords wiping their memories and all that!"

Director Kassius smiled and shook his head. "Not so, Doctor, not so. Mr. Macrimmon and Miss Heriot are to be chosen if you wish. Along with them, that leaves Miss Vicki Pallister, and…" a brief pause as the Director filed through the reams of paper littering his desk, "and of course! Mr. Steven Taylor! Well, Doctor?"

The Doctor smiled gleefully as he made his choice. He decided that having to explain the concept of regeneration to young Vicki and Steven would be too much, so he disregarded them. As much as he cared for Zoe, he felt she was much needed in the Earth's future, cleaning up after the Cybermen's attack on the Wheel. So that only left…

"Jamie, please!" the Doctor's face cracked into a mild grin, but there was still something on his mind. "However I do have an issue with just Jamie. He can be a trifle... brash at times; hard to control, even for me. Would it be too much to ask to have Victoria with us? I mean, if I'm to go to America, and she's in England, surely it wouldn't be too much for the continuum to cope with?"

The Director considered for a moment. It would be breaking one of the lesser Laws of Time - but hey, he was the head of the C.I.A.. He enforced the rules - who could stop him mildly breaking one once in a while?

"Very well, Doctor, we shall activate the Time Scoop and bring the two of them up here to the Agency. Mr. Macrimmon's memory will need adapting, of course, and I believe a little explanation to young Miss Waterfield could be in order, no?"

"Yes, yes, whatever," the Doctor said, "now – what is this mission you are going to be sending me and my friends on? Jamie and Victoria won't care for dull bureaucracy and political issues, you know!"

"The… challenging nature of the mission is one reason we decided you needed assistance. And anyway, Doctor, don't you listen? I have already explained the nature of the mission – to investigate temporal anomalies in the year 1969!"

The Doctor slumped into his chair, sulking like a small child. "Hmm… so you did. But still – it's hardly a lot to go on!"

"It is all we have, Doctor," the Director insisted, "you and your companions will be sent, via your TARDIS, to a location as near to the anomalies as we deem necessary. There you will investigate the problems and the anachronistic behaviour, and either report back, or preferably fix it. I'm afraid that is all we can go on. As you pointed out earlier – Sol 3 is not the speciality of Agency staff."

"Yes…" the Doctor said. "Very well – I'll do it!"

The Director laughed. "You say that as if you have a choice. But worry not, I am glad you are happy to accept."

"So then," the Doctor enquired, "when do I begin?"

"Well…" the Director said, gazing into the corner of his office, "any moment now…"

And as he finished that sentence, a wheezing, groaning sound emanated through Director Kassius' office, as what appeared to be a blue, police telephone box, materialised in the room.


	2. Reunion

**Mission Report: Part 2**

The meeting between Agent ΘΣ and Director Kassius terminated, the Doctor rendezvoused with his old companions in his TARDIS, and set off for the planet Sol 3. The coordinates had been set by C.I.A. navigators for the coastline of the state of Florida, in the country of the United States of America. The coastline lay near a launch site for a primitive form of space travel used by humans – the rocket. Powered by combustion of fossil fuels, it was the only way that inhabitants of this time could leave the planet. The name of the launch site was Cape Canaveral, H.Q. of the human space agency, N.A.S.A..

**Chapter 2**

**Reunion**

The Doctor's hand rubbed over the hard, blue, painted wood of the TARDIS door as he pushed it open and stepped inside. There, waiting for him in the control room, were two faces he knew very well, and hadn't seen in quite a while.

"Jamie! Victoria!" he called in glee, as his two friends turned and looked up to see him entering. Jamie, a young Scottish lad from the 18th century was first to exclaim his delight at being reunited with the Doctor.

"Oh, Doctor! I thought I'd never see you again, what with all that business with the Time Lords and the war games!"

"Oh well never mind that any more, Jamie," the Doctor said, "I'm here now aren't I?"

The other person in the control room, a young girl with long brown hair, a pretty face and large, brown eyes, was Victoria Waterfield. She was originally from the Victorian era, and had first met the Doctor and Jamie when they were fighting the Daleks. After the death of her father, she had joined the TARDIS crew, though after a particularly nasty run-in with a strange 'weed creature' in the 20th century on Earth, she had elected to stay with the Harris family.

"Oh Doctor it _is _good to see you again!" she shouted, and ran forward to hug him.

"Haha, Victoria, it's good to see you too!" the Doctor replied, releasing the embrace and smiling into her face.

"There is one thing I wanna know, Doctor," Jamie asked, "what are we – and you – even doing here? I thought I was being sent home, and you were taken for your trial? And as for Victoria, well we left her on Earth, didn't we, after that business with the Weed Creature?"

"Well, Jamie," the Doctor said, "you're right of course. You _are_ both supposed to be at home. But these are exceptional circumstances. Jamie, you remember my trial?" Jamie nodded.

"Well, this is all part of my sentence."

Victoria cut in. "What, some kind of galactic Sherlock Holmes?"

The Doctor laughed curtly. "Hm, yes Victoria, I suppose so! Yes, I have to go around on these little missions that the Time Lords – that's my own people by the way, Victoria – have set me. Quite how they came up with this I don't know, but at least it's delaying the other part of my sentence…"

"Other part?" Jamie said.

"Oh, never mind about that, Jamie! We've got to get going! On our mission!"

"Well where is this… _mission_… even going to be?" Victoria asked. "Oh I do hope we don't have to face those ghastly Yeti things again!"

"No, I don't think the Great Intelligence is going to be involved, Victoria," the Doctor said, "the Time Lords would have told us if we were coming up against someone we'd already faced."

"Well you say that, Doctor," Jamie cut in, "but they were hardly friendly to you at that trial! What's to say they're not leading you into a trap?"

"Hoho, I highly doubt that Jamie!" the Doctor mocked a chuckle. However deep down he too was having the same, anxious thoughts. Could the C.I.A. be deliberately sending him into a trap? And as Victoria said, would they come up against someone they'd already met before?

The Doctor was suddenly very worried. These temporal anomalies, he realised, could only be engineered by a foe from the future, one with great powers. His mind was all of a sudden flooded with all the evils he had faced in the future, and what havoc they could possibly wreak if let loose on 20th-century Earth.

"Well shall we get going, Doctor?" Jamie asked.

Snapping out of his thoughts, the Doctor turned to his friends and then to the control console.

"Yes… yes I think we'd better, don't you?" He smiled a slightly forced grin at the young Scottish scallywag and the posh Victorian aristocrat, slightly concerned about what danger he might be putting them in. However deep down, he couldn't help but feel a bit excited – after all, the old team was back together again!


	3. Arrival in America

_**DOCTOR WHO - The Enemy of Eternity**_

_Written by Huw Davies_

**Chapter 3**

**Arrival in America**

Aquamarine-blue water crashed over the sun-kissed sands of the Florida coastline. Out to sea, tall men with rippling chests surfed over gigantic waves, while their wives and girlfriends remained on the beach, stretched out on towels, sunbathing. Thankfully, they did not have their tranquil peace disturbed by the ancient engines of the TARDIS, which had in fact materialised about half a mile inland, by the side of the coast road.

The Doctor, Jamie and Victoria had stepped out hoping for a beautiful beach, the like of which they had once experienced in the year 2018, when the TARDIS had arrived on a similar-looking beach in Australia. Back then they had become embroiled in the politics of the age, battling the sinister dictator Salamander. This mission, they hoped, would be a far more low-key affair, but only the Doctor knew the nature of the menace they might be up against, and had elected not to tell his two companions so as not to cause alarm.

"Oh, bother!" Jamie shouted as he exited the TARDIS, barefoot, not onto soft sand but hot, hard road. Victoria was better prepared, having chosen a pair of leather sandals from the extensive TARDIS wardrobe. She had also picked out a summery-looking dress. The Doctor, of course, was dressed in his usual high trousers, fastened by breeches, a crumpled shirt and slightly grubby jacket.

"I thought you might want these, Jamie," the Time Lord said, leaving the TARDIS holding a pair of early 20th-century sneakers.

Jamie laughed briefly. "Thanks, Doctor," he said, hurriedly slipping the shoes onto his feet. "So where we going again?"

"It's called Cape Kennedy, Jamie, it's a space research station and rocket launch site."

"Ay, a bit like the kind of places we saw in Australia in the future?"

"Yes, that's right," the Doctor replied.

"Is that where the Time Lords want you to investigate this skulduggery then, Doctor?" Victoria asked.

"Yes," he said, "it is. They have detected temporal anomalies around the area."

"Temporal anomawhats?" Jamie was, as usual, confused by the Doctor's technobabble.

"Oh my father sometimes mentioned those," Victoria cut in. "He said they were sort of black spots, things that shouldn't be in a particular time, caused by somebody interfering."

"Bang on, Victoria! That's exactly what they meant."

"But surely Doctor," Jamie asked, "if this is like the research bases in Australia, how are we going to get in?"

"Yes, there was a mighty great lot of security," Victoria added.

The Doctor grinned. "With this." He produced a thin, brown wallet. Inside it was a seemingly blank piece of white paper. "It's called a psychic paper."

"Psychic paper?" Jamie was not convinced.

"Yes, Jamie. For instance, say I was trying to get into a party, but didn't actually have a proper invite. Well, I would show this paper to the person guarding the door, and say I had an invite. Then, they would look at the paper, expecting to see a valid invitation, and the paper reads their thoughts and shows them an invite. So I can get in."

"We could have done with that many a time," Jamie said, "so how comes is it that you've got it now?"

"Well, these missions the Time Lords send me on do require me to get into certain places I maybe shouldn't be in. They gave me this psychic paper to aid me," the Doctor replied.

Victoria wiped a few beads of sweat from her forehead. "Ooh, I'm getting flustered standing on this hot road. Can we get moving Doctor, towards the space centre?"

"Yes," the Doctor said, "I think that's a splendid idea. This way." He pointed down the road, and they set off for the short walk to the N.A.S.A. base.

Jason Trent was a pretty low-paid employee of the American space agency, but he felt his job was reasonably important. For ten years now he had worked as the secretary to the agency's head; giving them important documents, arranging meetings, and of course the endless cups of coffee. Not all of the people he had worked for had been the cheeriest people in the world, but they had all shown him respect and been kind to him – so long as he got things right.

However, the Head of N.A.S.A., Samuel Lieder, was a different story. For a start, he was not your typical N.A.S.A. boss – they were usually large, ex-military men, with a big voice and an even bigger ego. Occasionally you would get the very business-like and hard-working women, who were always brutally efficient and yet just as well strategically minded as the men – if not better. Lieder, however, was nothing like this.

For a start, he was clearly a foreigner. Jason could never place his accent – it seemed most days to have a distinctly German-sounding edge, yet every so often he could have sworn he could hear a sort of Mexican twang in it. Quite how a man like this got a job in the reasonably racist American society of the 1960s he could not imagine, especially as he could well have Russian roots, and during this time that was never a good thing to have.

The man also seemed to lack the depth of intellect needed to organise such a large organisation. True, his knowledge of space travel and rockets was second to no-one Jason had ever worked with, but the man had a very poor awareness of the logistics and strategy it took to run N.A.S.A.. His sole focus seemed to be the completion of the Apollo 11 project, which won him favour with the people at the top, but when it came down to it he usually left the legwork to his deputies. Jason sometimes wondered what Mr. Lieder did in his office all day – indeed it was now hard to check, as Lieder had moved Jason and his desk away from the top floor and down into the Administration department – a five minute walk if you were quick. And although Jason was able to catch up with his crush, Lisa, every 30 seconds of the day, he couldn't help but get bored down in the dingy, open-plan room. It just seemed so bizarre that a personal assistant was so far off-hand.

That said, Trent couldn't help but admire the man's determination. When President Kennedy had announced that he would try to reach the Moon within the decade, Jason, then newly-qualified at N.A.S.A., had expected Apollo 10, the lunar lander, to be ready probably by this year, 1969. However, when Lieder had announced the project's completion in 1963, with the blast-off the very next year, everybody had been shocked. Lieder announced his next intention on a public news interview: Earth was going to get to Mars now – and they would do it by 1969. And as sure as eggs is eggs, Apollo 11 was preparing for blastoff at this very moment. Trent chuckled to himself. If there was one thing Lieder had, it was tenacity.

It had been a quick and uneventful twenty minutes by the time the Doctor, Jamie and Victoria reached the outer perimeter of the N.A.S.A. base. There was quite a lot of activity at the main gate, so the three travellers decided to avoid it, and instead go for the main foot entrance for security personnel. It was, of course, guarded, but the Doctor's psychic paper enabled safe rite of passage.

"Ha! That was brilliant, Doctor!" Victoria exclaimed as they started to crunch down the gravel path towards a collection of green metal huts, which the Doctor supposed were the living quarters for the guards. "I can't believe they actually thought you were a British official," she continued, "especially in those clothes!"

The Doctor shot her a mock frown, before laughing himself. "Yes, it was rather amusing wasn't it, seeing his face as he examined the paper, trying to find some fault with it."

"Well now we're here, Doctor," Jamie said, "what do we do? I mean, I haven't seen many of these temporal anomawhatsits anywhere."

"Yes, Doctor, what do they look like, Doctor?" Victoria added. The Doctor sighed. Sometimes he wondered why he chose primitive humans from Earth's history as his travelling companions. At least with people like Zoe or that boy Steven, they had had some minor grasp of modern technology.

"These temporal anomalies are not physical things you can see or touch," the Doctor said, "they are actual events which shouldn't have happened."

"Well nothing much seems _that _untoward," Victoria said, "I mean they've been planning this Mars mission for ages. The rocket over there looks…" the Doctor stopped her quickly.

"What? What did you say? _Mars _mission?"

"Well yes," Victoria said, "the Apollo 11 to the planet Mars."

"So what's wrong with that, Doctor?" Jamie asked.

"W-well humans don't reach Mars yet! They don't even establish a colony until the middle 21st century, and they certainly don't land there for at least another 60 years! Don't you see, either of you? That's the temporal anomaly we're facing!"

"Well what do we do about it, Doctor?" said Jamie, "and anyway, what does it matter?"

"It matters a great deal, Jamie! If humans are allowed to reach Mars now, who knows how it could affect the timelines! They could have hyperspace travel in less than 100 years… it would be a catastrophe for the space-time continuum!"

"I don't understand, Doctor…" Jamie started, but the Doctor had already held up a hand to silence him.

"Oh I do _not _have time to explain it, Jamie! Just take my word for it – we need to stop whoever is doing this, now! Otherwise everyone – and I mean literally _everyone_ could be in grave danger."

"So where do we start, then Doctor?" enquired Victoria.

"Only one place to start, my dear," the Doctor said, "in there – N.A.S.A. Mission Control."


	4. Welcome to NASA

_**DOCTOR WHO - The Enemy of Eternity**_

_Written by Huw Davies_

**Chapter 4**

**Welcome to N.A.S.A.**

The Doctor's psychic paper again granted the three friends access to the inner workings of America's space programme – this time, however, they were right in the nerve centre of the operation – Mission Control. It was a colossal building, stretching many hundreds of feet into the air. The Doctor noted – albeit mentally – that he thought it beyond humans of this age to construct such a creation. In the event he said nothing – to Victoria this was pretty much established history and Jamie – well he was confused enough as it was.

Victoria interrupted the Doctor's train of thought, not for the first time that day. "Doctor – where exactly are we going?" she asked, rather louder than the Time Lord would have liked.

"Keep your voice down," the Doctor quickly retorted, "we don't want to arouse suspicion!"

"But I thought that magic paper of yours would keep us safe?" said Jamie.

"It allows the person who sees it to see what they expect to see. If they suspect us, they may be expecting deliberately forged papers – and if so, that's just what they'll find!"

"Well fat lot of good that thing is!" Jamie said.

"On the contrary," the Doctor replied, "it's our lifeline – but we must remain composed."

They continued to walk through the entrance hall, with no clear purpose in mind. An idea popped into the Doctor's mind as they passed an information desk, and he signalled to Jamie and Victoria to remain in the middle of the hall while he made a brief inquiry.

He sidled up to the desk and smiled sweetly at the young girl who was manning the station. "I wonder if you could help me," he said, in his kindest voice.

"What can I do for you, sir?" the girl asked. The Doctor breathed a mental sigh of relief. Her jovial tone of voice suggested that she didn't suspect a thing.

"I wonder whether you could direct me towards the management," he said, "it's just that I would like to find out a little more about the inner workings of this fascinating organisation…" he tailed off, offering another kind grin.

"May I ask your business here, sir?" the girl asked. A mental sigh passed over the Doctor's synapses. Still, he thought, she's just doing her job.

"I'm a… British diplomat, come to see how N.A.S.A. functions. We're thinking of devising a similar group over in the U.K., you know, but we'd like to check on the scale of the operation before we start putting anything into motion." The Doctor's smile this time was not just to pander for cooperation. He was genuinely pleased at how bona fide the rubbish he had just spouted had sounded.

"I've no record of an appointment…" she said, flicking through a notebook.

"No, you wouldn't," the Doctor said, "the embassy appeared to have made another blunder. You'll see that I do have top security clearance, signed by the ambassador himself…"

The girl paused to glance at the psychic paper. "Yes, you have a Level 5 pass – that figures, I guess. And don't worry about the embassy issue – it's happened before. You're free to go up if you wish, the management reside on the thirty-eighth floor – the Director's on the thirty-ninth, though I'm afraid you really will need an appointment to see him."

"Worry not," the Doctor said, "you have helped me right to the degree I required; thank you ever so much." He turned and winked to his two friends, before they stepped into one of the elevators, and set the controls for Floor 38.

"Where are we off to, Doctor?" Jamie asked.

"I'm going to tackle this problem head-on, Jamie," the Doctor said, "we're going straight to the top, the boss. We need to find out exactly what's going on here.

The Administration department of N.A.S.A. on Floor 38 didn't often have visitors – indeed it was staffed by only fifteen people – so most were surprised to hear the lift ding noisily and three strangely-dressed people step out. Most of the secretaries and P.A.s in the room quickly ignored the arrival and returned to their work – except one.

Jason Trent was fascinated by the eldest of the party. He was almost exactly… no, it couldn't be, he thought; he's just showing round visitors, that's all. But no – it wasn't. This man's skin was too fair to be him. And yet they looked so alike. He wondered why no-one else noticed, but then realised that Mr. Lieder never took visitors, not even from within the company. Only the board and he, Jason Trent, P.A., ever saw him. But the likeness was uncanny – in fact, it was more than that. The two men were identical.

Compelled to satisfy his curiosity, Trent stood up from his desk and approached the strangers. He went straight up to the older man.

"Mr. Lieder?"

"I'm sorry?" was the reply.

"Samuel Lieder, Director of N.A.S.A.?"

"I'm sorry," the man said, "but I think you are mistaken."

Jason just didn't understand it, and neither did the man or his two younger friends. It was the girl who questioned Trent.

"What's he on about, Doctor?" the girl said to the older man.

"What I mean, miss, is that this 'Doctor' friend of yours, bears a startling resemblance to our director here, Mr. Samuel Lieder."

The man they called the Doctor's eyes widened considerably. It was as if a great revelation was dawning on him.

"What did you say," he asked, "you mean, I look exactly like this man?"

"Yes, completely," Jason replied, "though you speak differently, your accent I mean, you are English, yes? But Mr. Lieder – well, he sounds German most of the time but I could have sworn I get Spanish or, maybe Mexican sometimes…"

"Mexican!" Even the younger man, who was dressed rather incongruously in a kilt, seemed to be having an epiphany also. "He doesn't mean to say…"

"I'm afraid he is, Jamie," the Doctor said. He turned to Jason. "What is your name, my boy?"

"Trent, Jason Trent, I'm Mr. Lieder's P.A."

"Then you can take us to him?"

"Yes, I can, but…"

"Just do it, man!" the Doctor was shouting now.

"Well come on," Jason said, gesturing into the lift. The girl he had heard referred to as 'Victoria' seemed confused.

"I don't understand, Doctor!"

"Well don't you see! Mexican, exactly like me, and now these temporal anomalies!" the Doctor was almost shrieking. Several of the office workers had been disturbed. "And a name like _Sam_uel _Lieder_?" Victoria's face was as blank as a sheet of paper.

"It's Salamander, Victoria!" Jamie shouted, as the lift doors closed. All the secretaries could hear from the ascending lift were three words, loudly whined by the girl.

"Oh not again…!"


	5. The Upper Echelon

**DOCTOR WHO - _The Enemy of Eternity_**

_Written by Huw Davies_

**Chapter 5**

**The Upper Echelon**

The man known to many as Mr. Samuel Lieder looked up as the lift which took up the entire far wall of his rather thin office made a loud dinging noise, signalling its arrival. He smiled a sly grin, and wondered which primitive fool was coming up to discuss some banal issue. Maybe Fenella, the sweet secretary from Level 12, come to discuss P.R. issues, or maybe even the poe-faced Deputy Director Dawson, who might want to have a moan about the cleaning rota before he was reminded of his blackmail. If either were so, he would brush them off without even giving them the time of day.

After all, Salamander had no time for these people whatsoever. He tolerated this primitive century but he did not enjoy it – he longed for the days when he was in total control of the world in the 21st century. As it was, he had to settle for a relatively small space agency in one, 20th-century country, but at least he had vast funds and resources at his disposal. Besides, Salamander had his contacts, and soon, they would help him to revolutionise this world early – the sun-store would become science fact rather than fiction, almost a century before its invention. Fusion reactors could be constructed, and the inter-continental rocket service set up immediately. All he needed to do was to fulfil his part of the bargain, and then the new industrial revolution could begin in earnest.

Compared to the 5-minute journey from the ground floor to Floor 38, the Doctor, Jamie and Victoria's second elevator trip, now accompanied by Jason Trent, took practically no time at all. As the ding rang out through the lift chamber, Jason exclaimed;

"Well, here we are folks, the fortieth floor."

"And this is Salam- sorry: Mr. Lieder's office, correct?" the Doctor asked.

"That's right…" Trent said, still staring in proverbial disbelief at the similarity between his superior and the man standing in front of him now. "I think it best if you wait in the elevator, while I speak to Mr. Lieder and explain myself – he can be remarkably difficult at times."

The doors opened and Jason stepped out into Salamander's office, the other three occupants of the lift melting into the shadows at the back. The man whom Jason knew as Samuel Lieder looked up from his desk.

"Jason."

"Yes, Director."

"I did not call for you. In fact I have not required your services for eight days now…"

"Exactly, Mr. Lieder, I was just wondering whether everything was going OK up here? There had been rumours in the H.R. department that you had been taken ill…"

Salamander chuckled. "On the contrary, my dear Trent, I am feeling better than ever. The er… ailment I was suffering from immediately after my appointment here cleared up many years ago now – surely you will not listen to the Chinese whispers of the women in Human Resources?"

"Oh no, sir," Jason said, "it's just I couldn't help wondering."

"Well I am fine, Trent," Salamander retorted quickly, "so there is no cause for alarm. If that is all, well, you are dismissed from this place." Salamander waved his hand in a dismissive fashion before returning to studying the papers on his desk.

"Ah, I'm afraid there is something else, sir," Jason said. "There are three people in the lift waiting to see you. I know they have no appointment, but they do seem to have acquired Level 5 security clearance from the government, so I think you are obliged to at least grant them a brief audience."

"I am obliged to see no-one, Mr. Trent!" Salamander shouted, briefly betraying the slightest hint of Latin American accent. He re-composed himself quickly, and smiled passively. "However, I suppose they do have high clearance status. I think it best if – as you say – I would have a brief chat with them, just to keep our friends in Washington pleased. Show them in, Trent."

"There's no need for that." Salamander's eyes widened like those of a fish out of water. It was a face he almost loved, but a voice he recognised, hated – and feared. He stared past Jason and into the eyes of the man who had ruined his dictatorship all those years in the future, the man who had allowed him to be hurled back to this infernal timezone. And yes – he still had that whiny girl and the dumb Scottish boy with him as well.

"You see," the Doctor continued, "we thought it easier if we let ourselves in."

"You had the impertinence to infiltrate my organisation, did you, Doctor?" Jason looked as befuddled as ever.

"You mean to say you know this man, Mr. Lieder?"

"He's not called Lieder," the Doctor cut in, "his name's Salamander – and in answer to his question, it was barely infiltration – as your personal assistant said, we do have Level 5 clearance."

Again, Jason looked confusedly at Salamander. "Is this true, sir? Have you been concealing your identity? As a highly paid public servant that demonstrates a great breach of civil trust. I must make an official complaint to—." Jason was silenced by the appearance of a small pistol at Salamander's side.

"You'll say no more, Mr. Trent," Salamander threatened. "If people were to start digging into my past, they might be rather… surprised, shall we say?"

"You can say that again!" Jamie shouted, "you're a mass murderer, a tyrant, a-." The Doctor placed an arm across Jamie's chest and made a shushing gesture with his other hand.

"I would stay quiet, Jamie," the Doctor said, "Mr. Salamander does have a gun, which in this instance gives him a minor advantage."

"Minor? _Minor? _Oh, Doctor you don't know what you're saying!" All four in the room now noticed that Salamander had reverted to his angry native Mexican accent. "You have no idea of the plans I have dreamed up, the schemes which I have put into motion as head of this pitiful little establishment!"

"_Pitiful?_" exclaimed Jason, "N.A.S.A. is the largest space agency in the world!"

"Where I come from, Mr. Trent, this base would be considered as little more than an aerodrome for museum pieces!"

"Where you come from…?"

The Doctor turned to Jason to explain. "This man, Salamander, is a ruthless dictator from a future Earth. He developed horrendous technology which would cause volcanic eruptions and then claim to be the saviour of the countries he himself had devastated!"

Jason Trent decided that he hadn't had enough sleep the previous night. Or maybe someone had spiked that coffee he'd had at lunch. Maybe the Russians had even put something in the water. He just simply couldn't believe the ludicrous story the Doctor was now telling him with such conviction it seemed that he believed it himself.

"I'm sorry, Doc, but I just don't believe you? Foes from the future? You been reading the _Eagle _too much my friend!"

"Well I'm afraid-,"

"If you're finished, gentlemen!" Salamander brought the conversation back to the present. "You must believe this man, Mr. Trent. As mad as he may seem, what he has told you is true…"

"He's right, Mr. Trent," Victoria said, "we _have _met this horrid man before…" she tailed off realising her insult and the cocked revolver still in Salamander's grasp.

"Insult me all you like my love," said Salamander, "but soon you'll live to regret it. You and your friend the Doctor are going to do something for me…" suddenly Salamander grabbed Victoria's arm, pulling her towards him.

"YOU GET OFF HER!" Jamie erupted, yanking the girl back towards him, the Doctor and Jason.

"I don't really care what you think, Mr… Macrimmon, isn't it? Jason," he turned to Trent, "tell me one thing – are the astronauts ready to go?"

Unsure whether to answer at first, Jason made his mind up when Salamander's gun-toting hand twitched. "Errr… yes, sir they're… in the preparation bay at this moment, sir."

Salamander walked round his desk, keeping the gun pointed at the party of four in front of him. He pressed a button on his intercom. "Guard Captain?"

A crackly voice came through. "Yessir?"

"Tell the astronauts to stand down. I have two new recruits, as well as myself, of course." He gazed malevolently at Victoria and the Doctor. "Also, notify Mission Control that Apollo 11 will take off six hours from now. Oh, and send a squad of guards up to my office, please. I have a feeling our recruits may need some… encouragement." He chuckled manically as the Doctor's face contorted into a fearful grimace.

"You don't mean to say…?"

"Haha, yes I do, Doctor!" Salamander said. "You, I, and Miss Victoria will soon be boarding the Apollo spacecraft."

"We won't go!" Victoria shouted.

"In any case," Jamie added, "they're not equipped for space travel!"

"They survived the inter-continental rockets in the 21st century well enough!" Salamander shouted. "Anyway, I don't care what you say – we will be leaving in less than six hours from now: our destination is Mars."

"But why do you need to take the Doctor, sir?" Jason said.

"My associates on Mars who would like to meet the Doctor. They have had past… dealings with him. He was part of our original agreement. You see – I knew the Doctor would come back some time or other. He's such a busybody, poking his nose in: I figured that he couldn't resist a trip to defeat me. Except this time Doctor – I've won!"

The lift dinged and seven guards spilled out.

"Now, Doctor, Miss Victoria, you will come with me – after all, the Ice Warriors are waiting…"


	6. Countdown to Blastoff

**DOCTOR WHO - _The Enemy of Eternity_**

_Written by Huw Davies_

**Chapter 6**

**Countdown to Blast-off**

Jamie and Jason were bundled from the room by two of the guards on Salamander's orders. "Place them in the cells," he said, "and I will deal with them on my return from Mars. The man has learnt too much. The boy? Well, he doesn't seem to have learnt enough!" Salamander then turned to the Doctor and Victoria. "And you two – well, we'd better prepare for lift-off, eh?"

Victoria was about to start shouting and wailing again, but the Doctor sensed this and placed a calming hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry Victoria," he whispered into her ear, "it's going to be OK."

"But how can we stop him, Doctor? You must complete your mission for the Time Lords…"

"This is the best way to do that. I agree, it's going to be dangerous. But by going into the lion's den, so to speak, we may be able to get to the heart of the problem."

Salamander had not overheard the details of the conversation, though he had become aware of it taking place. "You will remain quiet!" he shouted. "Guards, separate these two and take them to the fitting centre. They must be issued with space suits as soon as possible."

The two guards grunted gruffly. "Yes, Mr. Lieder," one of them said, re-entering the lift, the other following. One was left in the room with Salamander, the Captain.

"Anything I can do for you, Mr. Lieder?" he asked.

"Er… no, not really, Captain. I suggest you go and supervise the rocket's launch preparations."

"Very good sir." He bowed modestly. "May I use your… private lift, sir?" the Captain said, motioning his head towards an inconspicuous bookcase in the corner of the office.

"You may." Salamander said tersely. He turned and pressed a button on his desk, and the bookcase slid to one side, revealing a small space, room enough for one. "The lift will take you to the ground floor on the other side of Mission Control. It is a short walk to the launch pad, just to your left."

"Thank you, sir." The Captain entered the lift and it descended down to its terminus on the ground. Salamander resumed his usual place on the other side of the desk. He flicked a switch on his intercom, and then twisted a dial positioned on the underside of the table. Immediately an other-worldly whirring sound came from the communicator's speakers, and an even more other-worldly voice emanated from within.

"This is the Grand Marshall speaking. What news is there, Salamander?"

"We have him. Apollo 11 is taking off in five-and-a-half hours from now. Your travels have paid off. I am bringing you the Doctor."

Jamie and Jason had been lying in the cell for hours now. There was little light in the cramped space; what did manage to filter in came in from a dirty, barred window set up high on one wall, through which the sunny sky was just about visible.

"What do you think they're gonna do to us here?" Jamie pondered, pacing the chamber and occasionally banging his fists on the solid metal door, all to no avail.

Jason shook his head. "I…I dunno… I mean, I didn't even know about this place…"

Jamie looked down at the man who he thought would have stepped up and fought back. Instead he was a quivering wreck, sitting on the floor, supported by the cold stone wall. The Scotsman knew he could lambast him for being pathetic and timid, but he decided that would be unproductive; it could only end in greater failure for them both. Instead he tried a different tactic.

Jamie knelt down to Jason's level and looked at him. "Listen, Jason, we've got to think of a way to get out of here. The only way we can do that is if we work together, and to do that I need your help. You don't have to act super brave, but if you want to escape we need to put our heads together, all right?"

Jason's face returned to a smile and recovered some of its lost colour. "Fine," he said, "but I still have no idea of how to get out of this place!"

"Don't worry about that," Jamie said, "I'll take care of it. You focus on remembering how we got here, 'cos when we escape, you're gonna have to get us back to the control room, eh?"

Jason looked satisfied, like a pleased child. "OK…" he trailed off, muttering to himself the way out of the security compound. Meanwhile Jamie examined the door which stood between them and freedom. He ran his hands over the cold, green metal, and then tapped it twice with his fist, first lightly, and then harder. Jason looked up.

"Do you really have to bang like that? I thought we were figuring out a speedy exit, not behaving like a spoilt kid!" However Jamie wasn't listening – he was too absorbed in his own soliloquy.

"Thin… this door's very thin…"

"What?" asked Jason, "you're not thinking of _breaking _it down are you?"  
>Jamie shook his head. "No, it's not <em>that <em>thin – trust me we'd be out now if it had been – no, but still, thin metal. The Doctor always said about metal, it conducts electricity… the power passes through it."

"So?"

"Remember when we came in here, the guard locked the door with that silver box on the wall, with his light pen?"

"Oh you mean…" an air of realisation dawned on Jason, who clutched at his breast pocket, "my electronic key?" He produced a short silver object, stubby, with a red light at one end.

"Exactly!" Jamie said, "I bet it would, you know, _conduct _through the door, to the silver box?"

"It would work…" Jason said, "yes! There are security cells in the main building, but they have special padded doors – yes, they wouldn't allow the electronic key to contact the receiver box! My god, Jamie, the Doctor must have taught you a lot about science!"

Jamie blushed slightly, chuckling. "Well, I just sort of… picked it up you know," he smiled to himself briefly, before adjusting to the situation in hand again. He pointed at Jason's electronic key; "well, what are you waiting for?"

"I was about to ask you the same question," he replied, before he held the key against the door and pushed the button on its side. It took a couple of seconds before a loud click sounded, and the door gave slightly to Jamie's push.

"We're through!" his voice dropped in volume slightly, in order to avoid capture by any guards who might be lurking outside. However, he needn't have worried, as suddenly a calamitous roar sprang up from outside. To Jamie it sounded like a hundred cannons being fired at once on the fields of Culloden, however to Jason it was a far similar sound.

"The rocket! It must be taking off!"

"Then we're too late for the Doctor and Victoria!" Jamie shouted in dismay. He turned instinctively to the nearest outside view, the window in the cell. "Look!"

The pane of glass was pretty dirty, however it was clear enough for Jamie and Jason to see a slender, white object snake up the blue Floridian sky, a trail of thick white smoke following.

"Well, then," Jamie said sullenly, "it's all up to them now."


	7. Inside the Spaceship

**DOCTOR WHO: **_**The Enemy of Eternity**_

_Written by Huw Davies_

**Chapter 7**

**Inside the Spaceship**

At first, there was only inky blackness and a distant rumbling in the Doctor's head. Then shapes began to form, greys and silvers, and then voices. He could make out words – his name, mostly – before he saw Victoria's face in front of him.

"Oh, Doctor, you're all right! Thank goodness!" Her face, which for many minutes had been the picture of anxiety, was now resplendent in a beaming smile.

"Yes…" the Doctor muttered, pulling himself up off the metal floor he appeared to have been lying on. "W-what happened? A-after the launch?"

"I can't remember, really," the girl answered. "We seemed to have been knocked unconscious after the guards stuffed us in this little room."

Ah. Yes. The Doctor remembered that they were prisoners. In fact, the whole story of their capture had come back to him. He rubbed the back of his head, which was feeling sore.

"Are you feeling OK, Doctor?" Victoria asked concernedly.

"Err… yes, I'm fine thank you Victoria," the Doctor replied, "just a slight bump on the head, I think. Now, we really must think about getting out of here. I must speak to Salamander, you know!"

"Oh it's fine, Doctor… I can hear you quite clearly you know!"

Victoria looked around, perplexed. "Where did that come from? He isn't anywhere in here, is he?"

The Doctor shook his head and pointed to the corner where two walls and the ceiling met. "Public address system," he said, indicating a loudspeaker. "No doubt there is also a… camera in here somewhere," he said. He had now got to his feet and was pacing the small room, peering under jutting shelves and the like.

"Ah, to your immediate left, Doctor," Salamander's voice spoke out. The Doctor noticed the small black disc set into the wall about six feet up. "You see, I have you under constant surveillance. There is no escape from this place. Eh, who am I kidding? It's not like there's anywhere outside you can run to – though you haven't mastered travel in the vacuum of space without a pressure suit have you, Doctor?" After this diatribe Salamander let out a long and cruel laugh, which sounded as mocking as a hyena's and as booming as a thunderclap.

"Speaking of that, Mr. Salamander, I want to raise a certain issue. After our brief tussle in my TARDIS, you were sucked out into the time vortex. How did you survive?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Doctor! But I can tell you, in those brief seconds where I travelled through the void, I saw so much. The life and fate of the Universe passed through my brain. You think you have travelled, Doctor, but there is much more to learn. If I try and recall it now… my brain aches at the thought of it. But I can say this much – it was an amazing feeling. And when I landed on a beach not too far from here, burnt, bruised and battered, I knew what future the Universe had for me. What I had tried in the 21st century – it was not enough. Because there is so much more to be done. So much."

The Doctor's face had now turned to a cragged picture of utter terror. "No one is supposed to see what you have! It should have destroyed your neural pathways, obliterated your mind!"

"But it did not, Doctor, don't you see! Anyway, I've done nothing wrong – it's not like I affected the vortex. I was merely an observer, like a person watching a television set!"

"_Didn't affect the vortex?_" The Doctor was incredulous. "You have single-handedly put the whole Universe in danger with your callous disregard for temporal stability!"

"It's all true, you know!" Victoria added. "Even the Time Lords were starting to get worried. That's why we're here you know, we've come to stop you!" The Doctor shot Victoria a look which said to her that she probably shouldn't have given this information to Salamander.

"Time Lords? Huh!" Salamander let out a chuckle over the PA. "We all know that there's not much danger for the Universe! It's just silly little rules on the part of those spineless Time Lords, up in their ivory towers! They are fusty old men; they want everything to stay the same! Well I say no! Forget the Time Lords! To take the expression of 20th century Earth – they can go to hell!"

"Listen to me, Salamander!" the Doctor shouted, "just listen. You are dealing with hideously powerful forces here. Please, let me help you: you can travel in my TARDIS, we can correct the wrongs you've done; I can take you back to your own time. But please! Don't do this. All this: Mars, the Ice Warriors – it's all wrong!"

There was silence for a few seconds, and then Salamander's voice came back over the loudspeakers, though this time calm and assertive. "Doctor, in 30 seconds the door to your cell will open. You and the girl will leave the room and follow the corridor to the control room. Attempt escape, and I will depressurize the section you attempt to escape to. You are expendable to me, if you have to be."

The door gave a low hiss as it opened. Victoria made a fearful glance at the Doctor. "What do we do?" she mouthed.

"Nothing," the Doctor said, quite plainly. "We follow Salamander's instructions." Victoria had never seen the Doctor look as crestfallen as he did as they made the short journey from the cell to the control deck.

Salamander turned as the door opened and his two prisoners stepped in. Victoria had expected guards, but all she found was Salamander on a central chair, staring out into space.

"I-is it just us on here, then?"

"Why yes, Miss Waterfield. None of the guards are space-trained you see." He turned to the Doctor. "Now Doctor, you will notice we are in hyperdrive here." The Time Lord looked at the stars streaking past the windows, as if they were being stretched like rubber bands. "Very soon I will pull out, and we will be almost ready to touch down. Then we shall go and meet our old friends, the Ice Warriors."

"What are you and them planning?" the Doctor asked grimly.

"Oh, you'll see in good time, my friend." The man chuckled once again, before turning his attention to the flashing red light on the instrument panel in front of him. "It looks like our time has come," he said, standing and pulling hard on a large black-handled lever mounted on the wall. Immediately the ship seemed to slow and the vibrating which they had all got used to subsided greatly.

Outside, the view of streaks of white and black was fading, to be replaced by a disc of burnt orange – speckled with black. The Doctor's face crumpled in confusion.

"Are those… cities? On Mars?" His incredulity hit a high, and he turned to Salamander with eyes like daggers. "What. Have. You done?"

Salamander just smiled. "Let's just say… my sun-store had use on other planets, eh? Welcome to the new Ice Warrior Empire, Doctor. Touch down imminent…"


End file.
